






Class 
Book 



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.1_' : 



, ■•'. S%4?~\ 



Copyright N°_ 



fua. 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



FOUND IN A DLRLL1CT 

O.UEEN OF THE NIGHT* 
AND 
OTHER POEMS 




BY 
GEORGE HUGH BANNING 

WITH ILLUiTRATlOrtS BY 
LOREN BARTON 



FOUND IN A DERELICT: 

"QUEEN OF THE NIGHT" 

AND 

OTHER POEMS 



FOUND IN A DERELICT: 

-QUEEN OF THE NIGHT" 

AND 

OTHER POEMS 

BY 

GEORGE HUGH BANNING 

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY 

LOREN ROBERTA BARTON 



If/ 



NINETEEN NINETEEN 

THE MURRELL PRINTING CO. 

LOS ANGELES 






Copyright, 1919 

By 

GEORGE HUGH BANNING 

Los Angeles 



©CI.A529108 



MAR 



I8i9 



To 
My Mother 



FOREWORD 

r i J learn from the experiences of others is an art few 
can sincerely boast of. The things we are taught 
while bouncing over the rough spots here and there are 
perhaps the very things Grandfather could have told us 
had we shown a willingness to listen. Still it is this im- 
petus, this innate and mute initiative, that not only dom- 
inates but becomes intricate and pervasive in youth. It 
was not until late introspection that I was impelled to 
realize that the motives of my venture — the venture that 
frames the setting of this book — were not the motives that 
I had laid down before my inquisitors. Had I told them 
the true reasons, I should have admitted that about my- 
self which perhaps they had outgrown, that which they 
could have no sympathy with, but that which constructs 
the elemental substance and soul of youth. And so I sub- 
consciously fashioned an ultramotive and refused to ad- 
mit, even to myself, that it was not intrinsic. Thus dis- 
guised, I passed the censors and stepped into a new world. 

I was a sailor! — a long-haired, tar-dobbed, hickory-clad, 
sun-blacked, "sea-dog" ! I was destined to cross the ocean 
before the mast of a "wind-jammer," to visit strange lands, 
strange seas, and strange people ; to encounter destructive 
winds, fires, and mutiny; in short, I was to become ac- 
quainted with the real life of the sea. Here I learned 
that the stories we read of such an existence are not the 
mere pages of a book, nor the creative genius of Stevenson, 
Conrad, and Masefield; nay, the romance of the sea is 
immortal, its powers — unconquerable, and its story is never 
told. 

In the following pages I have taken much from the life 
as I have found it. "QUEEN OF THE NIGHT" was 
roughly outlined and many fragmentary sections were 
written in just that part of the globe the verses describe. 
In fact, the greater part of the experiences are true! Of 

[VII] 



course such a tragedy in the first person would never have 
left the author to write this foreword since the entire 
poem was presumably FOUND IN A DERELICT; 
nevertheless the reader must not fail to detect an allegory 
rather than an impossibility. 

Although few of the subsequent verses pertain to the 
present time, still it was conceived that they may yet do 
their bit, and it is thru this media that the present edition 
has found its way to the printers. Miss Barton has again 
allowed herself to be drafted, as she has done so many 
times before, in giving her time and best efforts to the Red 
Cross with all the enthusiasm and purpose of the men 
"over there". During the process of publication, when 
we encountered all the envolutions and concomitant mys- 
teries of many printing presses, she was not only the illus- 
trator but she was the supervisor of the entire book from 
an artistic standpoint limited as she was by the "business 
management". Picture yourself asking a printer to put out 
a publication at cost in these times. But because it IS 
"these times," because the Red Cross "needs the 
money," and because every cent paid down for this 
book is FOR the Red Cross, The Murrell Printing Co. 
has fallen in line and has done just that thing. Next 
to follow was the Aristo Engraving Company of Los 
Angeles, and it is needless to say that their generosity is 
appreciated. In hoc signo vincemus! 

In conclusion I wish to thank Mr. Wayland Smith, Mr. 
Dhan Gopal Mukerji, and my dear mother for the interest 
they have taken and the valuable suggestions they have 
offered in the reconstruction of the original manuscripts. 
We leave the rest — perhaps not the easiest task — to the 
saleswomen of THE RED CROSS SHOP. 

— George Hugh Banning. 



[ VIII ] 



CONTENTS 

FOUND IN A DERELICT: page 

"Queen of the Night" 3 

SONGS OF NATURE: 

Singing 19 

The Flying Merman 20 

To John Masefield 21 

Off the Reef 22 

Premonition 23 

A Contrast 24 

Sunrise on the Ocean 25 

The Muse 26 

Little Things 27 

Ukulele 28 

Becalmed 29 

The Dream Song 30 

The Mariner's Accordion 31 

SONGS OF LIFE: 

Echoes 32 

Sad Waves 33 

"Despair" 34 

Souls on the Sea of Time 35 

Drift Wood 36 

Gone! 37 

Wine 38 

Every Man 39 

Lines of Loneliness 40 



[IX] 



CONTENTS— ( Continued ) 

Pilot of the Night Watch 41 

The Blind Beggar 42 

SONGS OF LOVE: 

Tanka to 44 

You 45 

Woodland Stars 46 

A Promise 47 

Sun-flower 48 

The Lost Song 49 

Forget-me-not 50 

The Pathfinder 51 

SONGS OF THE WAR: 

Mothers 52 

Redemption 53 

To Walt Whitman 54 

Carry On 55 

A Soldier's Will to One Unborn .... 56 

Dry Docked . 57 

The Legacy of Death 58 



[X] 



$&&£&) tk f #5#$ 




FOUND IN A DERELICT: 

"QUEEN OF THE NIGHT" 



FOUND IN A DERELICT: 
"QUEEN OF THE NIGHT" 

" 'And this old schooner bears that hoodoo name!' 

The old sailmaker paused. 'It seems a shame!' 

Said he, measuring off a stitch, 'Here's number two!' 

He was sewing a seaman's coffin, 'But it's true 

The name, 'Queen o' the Night,' belongs to a plant — 

Why they named this old hulk that I can't 

Quite understand. A pretty name, no doubt ; 

And a pretty flower too — hey there, lookout! 

You're steppin' on it, — see! — no matter how 

Black and smutted up he was, somehow 

We want the clothes he'll sleep in sort o' clean 

To hide 'im like. But as I was sayin', I seen 

That flower grow on islands not so far 

From where we waller now. 'The Southern Star,' 

She called there once. How fond they was of me — 

Them native girls : there's one especially ! — 

Well sir, 'twas a happy, happy hour! — 

I sort o' see her there. She picked a flower 

And told me how it faded in the light 

Of early morning, so, 'Queen o' the Night' 

She calls it, or in French (they spoke it there 

Sometimes), 'La Reine de la Nuit,' so that is where 

This helpless, hell-bound jammer gets the name. 



[3] 



May be all right enough, but all the same 

That name and this here sleepin'-bag remind me 

Of all the hell I thought I'd left behind me. 

And here we are, half calmed, the old hulk drinkin' 

Enough salt water — well — I call it sinkin ! 

Damn this needle! — rusted! — yep, I'll say 

All the bloody gears 'as seen their day!' 

"He paused and went to humming some quaint lay. 

I left him there. Slowly turning away 

Half dreamingly, I sought the jolly-boat 

To be alone ; then, half asleep, I wrote, 

Or emptied from my soul each mystic thought 

That the old sailmaker's babblings had brought." 

" 'THE SCHOONER' " 

" 'At Capricorn near Tuomotus seas, 

Where all the world is summer and the breeze 

Blows warm with salty fragrance; where the sun 

Sets glossy clouds to steaming as they run 

And disappear like sylphs into the sky; 

Where two-arched rainbows live, and love, and die; 

Where cannonading meteors, at night, 

Like star-shells, flood the glossy world with light 

While tumbling shadows stagger o'er the brine 

In drunk stupidity. Where sparkling ivine 

From phosphorescent waves keeps glowing — blinking- 

Till man nor ghost of man can hold from drinking 

Wine the cloud-men feed their flocks of sheep on, 

Wine that ship and crew fall fast asleep on: 

Here a spell-bound schooner slept and snored 

With four-and-twenty seamen there aboard. 



[4] 



She ivaved her chafing sails about each mast 

As one by one the oily grounders passed; 

She swayed, and in her dreams she moaned a song, 

Or jerked her booms impatiently, 'How long!' 

She cried, for all her blocks and shackles, 

Brales, braces, halliards, sheets, down-hauls and tackles, — 

All were worn. God, what monotony 

Of weeks and weeks and weeks! The agony 

Of days that, like the world, went round and round 

Seemed dull and endless. All the world was bound 

In beauty unobtainable. But she 

Kept drinking, drinking, drinking, hopefully 

That wonders of the world would be her lot — 

But she was sinking, and she knew it not!' " 

"Thus the verses ended. Innocent 

Was I of words or what the phrases meant; 

The occult warning faded with the light, 

And dreams of magic islands, through the night, 

Bore me to the 'vex'd Bermoothes' where dwells 

The dwarfish Caliban ; then brassy bells, 

Bells, bells, bells! — that sickening clang 

Was drowning everything; they rang, and rang! 

Something — wrong! Indeed I waked to know 

That those upon the 'Dog' had turned below ; 

My watch turned to. Half numbed with stiffened neck 

I blundered from the jolly-boat to deck." 



[5] 



II 

"Two months — two long and weary months at sea 

We grumbled through our toils. Impatiently 

We dreamed of all but that which spread its charms 

Broadcast about us. Nay, our aching arms 

Reached for that which we, two months ago, 

Had cursed and left. But now we suffered. Oh, 

What folly! What childishness! What involution 

The hungry wanderlust — that mad solution 

Of Finding — leads us to! What were we seeking? 

Why were we here upon this rolling, leaking 

Schooner? Lo, the fuse of mutiny 

Was burning through the focsle, while silently, 

Watch and watch, the pump shifts toiled away, 

Watch and watch she leaked until one day 

The tired crew rebelled: they'd pump no more! 

Triumphant in revolt we turned for shore. "* , 

"A day, another day, till, through the clouds 

Clustering like dark and dingy shrouds 

About the shade of some long sought oasis, we 

Beheld an island dim. In ecstacy 

The wave-worn hearts leaped up, the tiding spread. 

Then, like a sudden shock to wake the dead, 

The great ship trembled, listed hard a-lea, 

A fresh breeze off the quarter waked the sea, 

The tiny white caps, through the glassy waves, 

Like ghosts of Hallowe'en came from their graves. 

Along the salt-white rails with straining eyes, 

Our gaze anticipating Paradise, 

We stood, all silenced lest our voices break 

The wondrous spell. We feared that we should wake. 



[6] 




We beheld an island dim. 



"How oft' have such anticipations led 

Where nude Reality entombs her dead ; 

How oft' have drunken dreams been torn away 

To crypts where ghouls of fact consume their prey. 

But thou, Anticipation, make us brave ; 

And Humor, lead us smiling to the grave. 

"This in one fleet trice imbued my mind 

To see those anxious faces in the wind 

With tousled locks and beards men grow at sea 

Only to postpone the monotony 

Of seeing each same face without a change 

Day after day. Oh God! for something strange! 

Something dreamed about but never seen ! 

Thus every gaze was fixed upon the sheen 

Of fire clouds that hung above the crown 

Of one small isle — perhaps a little town — 

Where waving, dreamy palm-trees grew and made 

A place of rest, pouring down their shade 

To thirsting souls. Scarce God could understand 

Two months at sea, — then land! Oh peaceful land ! 

"Land! and such as this ! — Oh magic isle, 

Be thou as we see thee 'neath a file 

Of gold-rimmed clouds, and thou thyself a part: 

A sky-grown dream ; a heart within a heart. 

On sang my soul, and, ere the song was done, 

The cloud men, through their fire looms, had spun 

A blue and crimson tapestry bedight 

With clustered stars descending with the night. 



[7] 



"And there the Book was read — the only part 

That through those long, dark months we'd learned by 

heart. 
The old sail-maker bowed his head in prayer; 
He was the only one who seemed to care; 
To have his careful work thrown overboard 
Was worth a thought, and so he thanked the Lord 
That the mate was gone and never coming back, 
Carefully tucked and sewed within the sack 
That his own hands had made. But all the rest 
Were thinking of the island for the blest: 
To-morrow's port. We were the chosen few 
To walk in Paradise. What cared our crew 
For one thus damned ? — With these our prayers expended, 
The plank was tilted up. A long day ended." 

Ill 

"Early dawn. A lonely lookout — I, 

Listening to the bubbles splashing by, 

The restless sheet-blocks jerking at their bales, 

The lazy down-hauls slapping at their sails, 

The clatter, clatter 'neath the focsle-head 

Of fire buckets idle in their bed, 

Listening to the breeze against the leech 

Of trembling jibs, or wondering at the reach 

Of two spread arms above the other spars 

Embracing one vast universe of stars, 

Or watching gold-green phosphorous mites that play 

Along the water line to fade away 

And die in whirring masses as they break 

The liquid fire film along the wake. 



[8] 



"But lo! from purple springs a tinted gray! 
One by one the star-lamps burn away ; 
One by one the clouds, like ghosts reborn. 
Blush at their own splendor till the morn 
Has made the world an opal set in gold. 
Lo! the vapor curtains rise! — Behold! 
A dream incarnate ! God! before my eyes, 
The isle, the sea, the ivorld is Paradise ! 

"As times of plenty presage future dearth, 
Dream bubbles burst and tumble back to earth: 
There at anchor 'neath the white-hot sun 
Boxes, drums, and barrels ; one by one 
We hauled aboard. How like small children — we, 
On Christmas-eve when blind anxiety 
Anticipates tomorrow's ample store ; 
Thus all our hearts had drifted to the shore 
Where, through the trees, along the cool highway, 
Shadow children joined in shadow play; 
Shadow men — dark men — with naked feet, 
Tripped noiselessly along the shadow street ; 
Red, yellow, blue and purple, here and there, 
Like drunken Autumn leaves without a care, — 
This way and that. What difference to a band 
Of happy shadow-folk in Shadowland? 

"But still in passive greed we drudged away 
Until the bell was sounded and the day 
Was carefully cashed within the money drawer, 
While we, with empty pockets, pulled ashore. 



[9] 



Empty pockets? Nay, — deeper curses: 

Our hearts were empty — empty as our purses. 

Fools! — blind fools! — We grumbled as we walked, 

Cursing, vowing vengeance, as we talked. 

The breeze had turned its song to mockery, 

The dusk was pouring money in the sea ! 

The shadow children fled, the beauties all 

Crumbled with the Shadow-city wall. 

Yet there we were 'midst all the things we'd sought: 

We walked in Paradise, and knew it not." 

IV 

"The crowd dispersed. Alone, forlorn, I went 

Along the shabby pathway. Discontent 

Walled in my soul with purpose to preclude 

That art of panning gold from solitude. 

But lo! before the mural blind was made 

There came a voice ! a song ! My soul obeyed ! 

Half dead, it stirred. It rose. It cried aloud! 

In modulation shook the mountain cloud ! 

The echoes crashed. They thundered 'twixt the stars. 

The moon dropped out, then Jupiter and Mars! 

My breath was gone, and ere my wits returned, 

Darkness in celestial pyres burned. 

"Upon the moon-paved waters of the bay, 

Hours, years, nay ages, sailed away. 

Behold the dancing shadows 'round the trees! 

What happy dryads own more grace than these? 

I watched until beside me smiling there 

Stood a maid with flowers in her hair, — 

White flowers — white like lilies — with such grace 



[10] 



They seemed to drink sweet nectar from her face 
And shine with sparkling dew the silvered skies 
Had drunk when drinking tear-drops from her eyes. 
Beneath the pillared foliage, half entranced, 
We rested while the other shadows danced. 
She spoke. I spoke — or whispered lest I wake 
The emerald dream that drifted from the lake. 
She closed her eyes ; perhaps the dazzling light 
From her own soul had closed them. Ah, how bright 
Even to me that midnight darkness seemed ! 
Perhaps / closed my eyes! Perhaps I dreamed! 

"For, as I gazed upon that form so rare, 

She moved, she picked a flower from her hair! 

'Take this,' she said, 'this blossom, pure and white — 

'La Reine de la Nuit' pour vous, 'Queen of the Night'! 

It is my soul blossoming when the mist 

Of night has fallen down on earth and kist 

The folded petals. Lo ! as if from dreams, 

It moves, it turns its head, it seems 

To wake, to see, to drink the harmony 

That echoes from the lyres of sky and sea ; 

It catches every trembling light that cleaves 

Its blinky pathway through the waving leaves; 

It sings of starland ; bathes in fragrant bliss — 

Take it — my flower, — here is Happiness.' 

"I seized the trembling plant. My passions grew. 

I bore it to my breast as if I knew 

Its life was mine ; as if I could devour 

That beauty from the soul that made the flower. 



[11] 



I clutched it ! kissed it ! called its name aloud ! 
Oh God, it seemed its petals were endowed 
With all my senses, yet some sense divine — 
I knew not what — but swore it should be mine! 

"I gazed upon the maiden lying there. 

I gazed upon the flower to compare: 

They looked the same ; ah me, I hardly knew 

Which blossom was the brighter of the two. 

As the water images the bower, 

Her being was inscribed upon the flower. 

It was her soul, so bright — so bright that she 

Was All, Perfect, Pure as soul could be. 

"But envy comes to conquer, envy burns 

What little virtue man's poor being earns. 

I clutched her, kissed her, — God could not have stayed me ! 

She, like the flower, trembled and obeyed me. 

I drank the wine that she alone could offer! 

I crammed her love like gold into my coffer! 

I gouged the moon and stars from out their sockets 

And crumpled clouds to fit my empty pockets. 

The world — the universe — was in my power! 

Drunk with delight I gripped the glowing flower 

And with it staggered to the open sea : 

A conqueror with spoils of victory." 

V 

"Early dawn. A lonely lookout — I, 
Listening to the bubbles splashing by, 
The restless sheet-blocks jerking at their bales, 
The lazy down-hauls slapping at their sails. 



[12] 



There behind me fades the coral bay, 

The jagged mountains slowly blur away; 

The dark mist falls, and now the black clouds take 

The liquid turquoise from our bubbling wake. 

'Come back!' I cried, 'Come back!' — there came a dull 

And mocking laughter from a passing gull. 

'Come back! Come back!' again, again I cried! — 

Thus with a 'hiss' the sea and sails replied. 

I stretched my aching fingers in despair. 

I reached, I grasped — I grasped the vapid air! 

Half mad I fell. (Still dimmer lay the strand.) 

God! What is this? The flower in my hand ! 

Wilted, drooping, tarnished and forlorn, 

With bleeding stem and streaked petals torn, 

It lay, a helpless victim of my hand, 

Dying like the hills of Shadow-land ; 

Dying like my soul, oh flower white, 

Farewell forever! Love, 'Queen of the Night'! 

"Eight bells! The watch was done. Each seaman slunk 

From wheel, deck watch, or locker to his bunk. 

The Starboard men, half dazed from sleep, like ghosts, 

Relieved the wheel and filled their sailing posts. 

'Turn in!' the lookout said, 'Eight bells! — I swear 

You look most like the Devil standin' there — 

A-standin' there before the Starboard light 

All green and pale-like . . . Lordy, what a night!' 

I turned away but stood behind the mast 

And leaned against the pin-rail. All aghast 

I watched the silhouettes in shabby rout 

Move here and there. I heard the 'Second' shout 



[13] 



'Hey, lend a hand! — you there! — to brace the yard. 

Once more ! And again ! Make fast ! don't loose 'er pard. 

All right: the sheet! — good! — Together sing! 

Wait! get 'Handy Bill'! — there — the ring! 

Yo-hee, oh-ho\ Well done! Take up that slack! 

Lean on it! break it! once more! bring 'er back! 

Haul taught! Make fast! Now Spanker-sheet, and Main: 

She's haulin' off the quarter now again. 

You, Scottie, lay aloft and clear that brale, 

She's foul near the goose-neck. See the sail? 

You'd think a crew of farmers put to sea — 

God damn this breeze! Get aft, Andrew, fer me! 

Tell him t' haul 'er east-nor'-east about. 

Oh Gus! up there. I say! keep a sharp lookout!' 

'For lights or rocks ?' replied the focsle-head. 

'For everything — and reefs!' the 'Second' said. 

'Makin' leaway! wind abaft the beam! 

I've never seen the likes — I'd never dream 

A bloody man could have the crust t' build 

A log so helpless. Now, with oil tanks filled, 

And gas-pumps suckin' bilge t' God, and store 

And water-tanks all full — Good Lord ! what more 

Would any proper sailin' vessel need ? 

But here we are t' sea again. Indeed 

As helpless as before ! Just see that wake ! 

Four points t' windward ! Lord, I bet we make 

The rocky coast of Hell before we see 

Old Diamond Head again. . . . Take it from me!' 

"And so they talked and grumbled, spat and swore; 
It seemed that all our efforts to restore 



[14] 




'Hey, lend a hand !— you there!— to brace the yard.' 



The voyage to hopefulness were drowned in gloom ; 

For what is man beneath the hand of Doom? 

What is mortal will when Destiny 

Controls the winds and currents of the sea? 

And so I stood imprisoned in my own 

Dark cell of circumstance; — I, alone, 

Unfixed for sleep or toil, unable, too, 

To listen to the chanties of the crew, 

Felt the helpless, heated coals of yearning 

Deep in unfrequented soul-pits burning. 

Regret is Wisdom, but alas, how late 

Such knowledge comes to tangle with our fate ! 

Man thinks and acts only as he wills ; 

But, like the river winding through the hills, 

There's but one way to go : the way it went, 

Though like some mountain torrent purpose bent 

To wash away time-planted rocks and flow 

To realms where none but it had dared to go, 

It's all the same ; even as the day 

Must presage night, there is no other way. 

All is like a map to Destiny ; 

All that ever has been had to be; 

All that is can be no other way; 

Circumstance commands! We must obey 

Although we follow through the depths of scum 

And eat the dregs that worms are breeded from, 

Or though, like earthly Gods, we fill the age 

And feel the joy of Christ's own heritage, 

It's one with Destiny, whose mate is Cause ; 

They paint life's masterpiece and shape the laws. 



[15] 



Yet there is that in man, deep and rebelling, 
That cries aloud, sans reason, but compelling 
Him to think, though God must shape the whole 
He himself is master of his soul. 

"Then off I went again to the jolly-boat 

With purpose to forget, and glibly wrote 

Whatever seeped from out the overflow 

That swelled some vault within. How could I know 

The meaning of those hurried words — not them — 

But what relief to watch my trickling pen." 

" 'THE FLOWER' " 

" 'In Papeete, Tahiti's sunny shore, 

Where men and women wear, well, little more 

Than nature has provided. Where one sees 

Mangos and bananas grow on trees, 

And cocoa-palms, like forests, even to 

The emerald ocean side. Where all the blue 

Beyond the coral reef reflects the glozu 

Of the giant moon. Where ocean breezes blow 

From the Island of Moorea dreamingly , 

Upon a mossy stream-bank, lonesomely 

Beside the little cocoa-jungle, there 

Sat a sun-browned maid, and in her hair 

White flowers were entwined. How they resembled 

The purity of moonbeams as they trembled 

Glowingly upon her face and breast 

And on the maiden ferns that lined her nest. 

'She sighed, and from the wreath upon her head 
She plucked a flower. 'To be like thee' she said. 
'Just to be like thee, ok magic flower, 
To love and be loved for this one dark hour, 
When at dawn the great sun climbs the sky 



[16] 




'Here's number three!' 



Gladly would I fade with thee, and die!' 

As she spoke the great moons silver beams 

Weighed heavily, and from a sea of dreams 

Her lover came in raptures to her charms, 

For she was beautiful. There in his arms 

She drank the wine that he alone could offer. 

She crammed his love like gold into her coffer, 

She gouged the moon and stars from out their sockets, 

And crumpled clouds to fit her empty pockets. 

The world — the universe — was in her power, 

Drunk with delight she watched the fading flower, 

For now the sun was rising zuhite and hot. . . . 

She was dying and she knew it not.' " 

"Thus the verse concluded ; then it seems 

I drifted off — far off — to sleep and dreams ; 

I saw the old sailmaker busily 

Sewing on a bag. 'Here's number three!' 

He said, and eyed me as he drew 

The needle out again and palmed it through. 

He measured me once more from heel to head — 

'I guess it's plenty long enough !' he said. . . . 

But now the great ship shivered, twitched, and twisted! 

A rumble from the cargo hatch ! she listed ! 

Timbers cracked and crashed ! I heard a roar 

Like breakers thundering upon the shore. 

White foam swept the decks ! The cries of men, 

Like waves of life on cliffs of doom, again 

And again were mocked by echoes. I 

Was conscious of my dreaming, but to try 

To force my mind to wakefulness would be 

To find another dream more true ; to see 

The wretched sailors grovelling in waves 



[17] 



That were to swallow them and seal their graves. 
So on I slept — how long? I never knew 
Till tides of horror ebbed and bore me to 
A haunted stillness — stillness so like death 
The beating of my heart, my surging breath 
Awoke me! . . . 

"Oh, thou, if ever there should be 
Some one to find what's left of mine and me, 
Ask me not how came this bitter end 
Nor these few inky splutterings I've penned ; 
/ am the end ! I, exiled, outcast 
From life and death. Even to the last 
Behold me now ! The luckless ship is gone ; 
God knows when or where, perhaps the dawn 
Shall find her wreck on some unchartered shoal — 
'Queen of the Night' tattered as the soul 
That's wasting here adrift in the jolly-boat! 
Adrift ! and all alone ! My burning throat 
Is caked with salt, my lips, my tongue shall burst 
Even as my heart ! This gnawing thirst, 
This Hell of hunger, world of appetite, 
Has found a willing victim, reaped delight 
In devastation, joy in ruthless plunder, 
Torn me down to darkness, dragged me under! 
Oh let these lines, however crude they be, 
If found, be all the world has left of me ; 
For lo ! the sea grows pale ; its hungry eyes 
Are red with blood reflection. All the skies 
Have horded up life's treasures as their own 
And left me dying — dying and alone. 
Oh dawn of day, thou art the soul's twilight ; 
Life — the flower of dreams — Queen of the Night." 

[FINIS] 



[18] 




Oh dawn of day, thou art the soul's twilight ; 
Life — the flower of dreams — Queen of the Night. 



life, thou arf only the shadow 
Of a Star whose silver ray 

Shines on screens of Destiny 
6cr endless shatioiv play. 



i 




SINGING 

The sea turns the pages of darkness 

For the jewels of her temple to see; 
The winds put the stanzas to music, 

And my soul sings the music to me. 
O God, could I sing as my soul does, 

I'd sing to the world-wide throng, 
And the world, as the wind, would be singing 

With me to the soul of my song. 



[19] 



THE FLYING MERMAN 

When the crystal sea, in the dead of night, 

Is awed by the tranquil sky, 
And the world is wrapped in a purple light 

As the moon and the stars sail by, 
I swim from the depth of a silent dream 

In search of the distant light ; 
Like a streak of gold I glide on the beam 

That paves the path of night. 
Then I fall and am lost in the blue chiffon 

All spangled in gold and white ; 
Again and again I appear, but am gone 

Like the flash from a beacon light. 
Then I fly to the lure of the sapphire dome 

To frighten the moon and Mars, 
Then fall to scatter the spangled foam 

That shines like a million stars. 
Like a will-o'-the-wisp or a lightning dart, 

Like a goblin or silver sprite, 
Or the arrow that pierces a lonely heart 

Adrift on the waves at night; 
I know the world, yet none know me, 

As silently I roam 
From the stars of the sky to the purple sea 

Where I vanish in snow-white foam. 



[20] 



TO JOHN MASEFIELD 

(After reading "Dauber") 

You came as an ocean billow, 

And burst on the sands of time 
Till the crust of its surface rippled 

To the pulse of an ocean rhyme: 
The rhyme of the wind and the water, 

The rhyme of each tiny star 
That follows the wake of a vessel 

And silvers the frost on the spar. 
Hear the creak of the blocks, and the humming 

Of wind on a trembling shroud, 
Like the ghost of a tempest drumming 

On the soul of a vanishing cloud. 
Hear the song of a man that lived it, 

And knew what it was to sail 
Through life with the sheet strands cracking 

'Fore the breath of the Master Gale. 
It was never the dream of summer 

When the wind and sails agree, 
But the battle with Fate when thunder 

Wakens the rage of the sea. 
But you've painted your God as you found him 

When the soul of your song began, 
And you've taken the beauty that crowned him 

To color the hearts of man. 



[21] 



OFF THE REEF 

Have you ever heard the splash, splash, splashing as I go, 
And the foaming, combing ruffle on my pearly, curly 
crest ? 
Have you heard the swish and splashing on the rocks 
where I am dashing 
As I roll from out the rainbow arch of triumph in the 
west ? 

I greet the merry babble of the rushing rivers' rabble 
As they turn their troubled torrents to the forces of my 
foam, 
Then athwart the sea I dash to the music of my splash, 
And I'm laughing at the lightning darts that cross the 
stellar dome. 

I'm the god of force and motion; I'm the monarch of the 
ocean ! 
The ever-changing, ever-moving mass of water, I. 
Though I splash, and roll, and change, to myself I'm 
never strange. 
For the blue that Heaven gave me is the light that 
cannot die. 



[ 22 ] 



PREMONITION 

From cro'jicks to the skysail-yards 

There comes a restless groan ; 
The sheet-blocks, swinging to and fro, 

Complain with fretful moan ; 
The port and starboard running-lights, 

From out the mist, half lost, 
Are blinking — frozen half asleep — 

Thru green and crimson frost. 

Beside a bit I take the caulk 

Before the blinking red ; 
But thru the lashes of my eyes — 

There on the topsail-head — 
Above the kites — the futtock shrouds 

Where sky-top yard-arms cross, 
I see a white, a something white! — 

It is an albatross! 

I listen, lo, it speaks to me! 

The words are faint and far: 
"The salty soul of a seaman, I ; 

The tragic tale of a tar. 
You sleep tonight where I once slept 

On the deck of a luckless whaler, 
Sleep well my lad, for soon you'll be 

The salty soul of a sailor." 



[23] 



A CONTRAST 

While the waves were sighing 

A voice came from afar 
Like spirit-echoes flying 

From a sunken star. 
Inky seas around me 

Shattered at the prow ; 
A twinkling pageant found me 

Where dreams would find me now. 

But now the sea's in laughter, 

The wind enjoins with cheers, 
And my soul drifts after 

In the sea's forgotten tears. 
The echoes change to thunder 

And die upon the shoal; 
The stars flare out from under 

The crypt that binds my soul. 



[24] 



SUNRISE ON THE OCEAN 

Rays, like colored ribbons streaming 

From the castle walls of night, 
Awaken emerald-bubbled, dreaming 

Waves to golden rifts of light. 
Billows catch the rainbow shaded 

Fairies at their May-pole play 
To weave the web of cloud-yarn braided 

Thru the golden loom of Day. 



25] 



THE MUSE 

(A Tribute to a Contemporary Poet) 

She flies as an opal dream to thee 
Over a topaz sea 
That chimes with the bells of planets and the moon. 
She drifts as the silken harmony 
That rings in a dream 
And carries the voice of stars in silver tune. 

She flies as a snowy albatross 
From the mist across 
The vision of an exiled, lonely soul, 

And wakes the voice for waves to toss 
Carelessly 
Until they beat with thunder on the shoal. 



[26] 



LITTLE THINGS 

Can you think of a time when memory's wings 
Shall drift to a world of little things 

On years that follow away? 
Can you think of a smirk, or a frown, and yet 
Smile at it all, and almost forget 

That years have borne you away? 
Can you think of a time when the hours pass 
Thru the amber light of an upturned glass? — 
Can you ever forget those hours when 
You are only a man in a world of men, 

And years are rolling away? — 
Think if you can of the smallest thing: 

A tree, a beast, or a man ; 
Think, if you will, of a little place 
In the pine-tree shade, — or a little face — 
A stump, a grove, 
A kitchen stove, 
Or a three-legged stool, if you can. 

It's the little things that wind their way 

In silence to the heart, 
And we hardly know, and hardly care ; 
We hardly look — just find them there 

With little things — 

Real little things 
That years have borne apart. 



[27] 



UKULELE 

Her dusky head upon my breast, 

Her song, with snow-white wings, 
Sails on night-veiled seas to rest 

Born from love's heart strings. 
She sings the purple waves to sleep 

While each star blinks his eye ; 
The crescent moon sinks in the deep 

On white quilts from the sky. 



[28] 



BECALMED 

Capeila rises to her throne 

And wears a wintry crown ; 
While the scepter of Orion to 

The wilted sails points down. 
The clouds, like drifting hulks of ice, 

Have quenched the frozen moon ; 
The sea — a sheet of icy steel — 

Has ceased her fettered tune. 
The seagull, like a ghost of dawn, 

Appears, but fades away, 
As the scarlet genii of the west 

Has swallowed up the day. 
The white sails seem to tremble, for 

They see the phantom pass 
That glides away with all the world, 

Except a sea of glass. 
And now there's only silent sleep 

On quilts of mist that fall; 
But while Thy mirror sleeps, O God, 

It dreams, and echoes all. 



[29] 



THE DREAM SONG 

Peace sailed down on the moon-path 

With wings for the soul of sleep 
That bore me away where the planet-bells 

Were chiming the songs of the deep. 
And the nymphs of the wind were singing 

New songs to the ocean's lyre, 
Till my soul, like a sun-glazed sabre, 

Cut free from my body's fire. 
And lo ! I could sing with the phantoms 

That danced to our magic lay 
Of the sea when the stars are shining, 

And the moon-path fires play. 



But I woke ! The sails, against a cloud, 
Hissed at the wind ; the bowsprit ploughed 
Into a wave whose snowy shroud 

Spread over as it died. 
Gaunt, grizzled clouds, as black as coal, 
Revealed no stars, but still the roll 
Throbbed with my heart, and in my soul 

The stars dropped out again. 
Thoughts of my dream, like echoes, burst 
Into my heart — a scorching thirst ; 
I strove to sing the song that first 

Broke through the wall of dreams. 
Somewhere the words, like leeches, hung 
Behind my lips — they bit my tongue ! 
But lo! the song my dream had sung 

Sank back into my soul. 



[30] 



THE MARINER'S ACCORDION 

Still the night, and all the world around 

Was wrapped in crystal star-light, while the sea 

Wore garnet chains upon her pulsing breast 
That linked my soul to Heaven's harmony. 

The pipe starred faces of each phantom man 
Waxed and waned as billows rose and fell ; 

The smoke curled up and vanished like a dream 
Or wilting fancies winged with rapture's spell. 

My heart soared up in fire till it shone 
On memory of days and faces gone ; 

My soul, white heated, burned the world away! — 
The Mariner's accordion played on! 



31 j 



J 



^Jj 



<t>arincrs, stand fcylthouqh ivill 
13c baffled by the Chester Gale: 

Che ship is lost! -so life- but still 
f)oiv can fiis purpose fail? 



^ 




ECHOES 

Saturn's golden ring is far away, 

And Mercury that flies with sun-bathed wings; 
My heart is tossed amain with wind and spray, 

And yet how faint and far such beauty sings. 

I've never heard the breaker sound the shoal 
Lest other waves resound as from afar; 

I've never heard the song-bird air his soul 
Unless the carol echoes from a star. 



[32] 



SAD WAVES 

Sad waves, sad waves, rolling by; 
Rolling still away, while I 

Give heart and soul to thee. 
From out the opal sunset's burning 
I see thy goal, but no returning 

Waves across the sea. 

Farewell, oh waves that lift my bark 
And bear my love to seas of dark 

When twilight veils her beams ; 
If, God, all love and life must part, 
Break, sad waves, my wasting heart 

On sunset's shore of dreams. 



[33] 



"DESPAIR" 

{As painted by Perham Nahl) 

An island gray, surrounded by a sea 

Of boundlessness — unfathomable, and cold ; 

On rocks more gray and gaunt than all the waves 

Kneels the outcast — toy of Destiny — 

With drooping head and wind-blown, withered locks 

Blinding him to all but hopelessness. 

Hark the ghost-waves moaning at the cliff 

At whose brink he, kneeling, hesitates! 

Cold the night — more cold than all the rocks, 
And colder too than the steel-blue, icy waves ; 
Much colder, yea, than even Death itself ; 
One precipice, one final step is all ! 
The isle transcended, where now can he turn? 
Go back ? — Turn back ? — Nay, this can never be ! 
The mighty crag behind from which he fell 
Precludes it all — God! what is that? 

A light! — A golden light upon the waves! 
A ship ! — A ship ? — See, see how dim it shines ; 
But still it lends its glimmer to the sea. 
Yet how the breakers beat against the cliff! 
They call ! They call ! beckoning him to come ! 
The light has left the sea! It climbs the sky! 
And lo, 'tis nothing but the morning star: 
The messenger of dawn to light the way 
To Death's immortal darkness in the sea. 



[34] 



SOULS ON THE SEA OF TIME 

Like crystals of the ocean 

Comes each day. 
Some spark of light — a flash! — 

That fades away. 

They come ! They go ! — and yet 

They're never gone. 
Each lives to die, and calls 

The next one on. 

One by one the twinkling 

Echoes die, 
As flowers, birds and beasts — 

As you and I. 

Each light — a life, but, watching 

From afar, 
Behold their Maker shining 

As a star. 



[35] 



DRIFT WOOD 

Helpless sticks, decayed and rotten, 

Born like puppets of a child ; 
Tossed, and shattered, then forgotten, 

Where the ranks of the dead are filed ; 
Had you eyes like mine to see with, 

Could you find your rocky doom ? 
With lips to speak, then could you plead with 

God to lay aside your tomb? 

On your way, poor helpless splinters, 

Ask no senses, for they find 
That summers are to pilot winters 

Through the labyrinth of mind. 
And what is mind? What is it made of? 

Can we trust it when we know 
We fear what "Faith" is unafraid of ; 

Live, lament the seed we sow ? 

Oh men (poor wave-tossed hypocrites), 

We too are doomed to drift alee 
And share the morgue with trashy bits 

Of useless timber, lost at sea. 



[36] 



GONE! 

The breaker sadly moans 
Resounding from the stones ; 
The echoes fade in canyons far beyond the reach of ears: 
It's gone — what e'er it be ! 
Sad day, or jollity! 
Gone forever to the hungry genii of the years. 
Reminiscence — vague recall — 
Echoes coldly from the wall 
Where seconds are the mouldy stones turned green from 
senseless tears. 

But still my being calls for dawn! — 
Yet sullen shadows answer, "Gone!" 



[37] 



WINE 

And is this life ? — 

A hopeless fight to know 
The soul and source 

Of dreams that come, and go; 
A restless struggle 

For the ever-far ; 
A helpless worship 

Of a fancied star? 

The flowers nod 

Before they fade away ; 
The winds sigh "Yes" 

Before the death of day; 
The billows rise, 

But crash upon the stones. 
Life offers laurels 

To our wasting bones. 



My soul, confess! 

This, then, to death be thine: 
As joy breeds sorrow, 

Happiness is wine. 



[38] 



EVERY MAN 

The dark clouds see the silver sun above. 
I see it not. 

The saffron maiden of the west is love. 
I find her not. . . . 

The clouds blow by! the sky is clear! 

I see ! I see ! — but still I hear 

The moaning of the western breeze 

Softly sighing thru the trees, 

"I prayed, I longed, 
I toiled, I fought, 
I strove to grasp! — 
But found it not." 



[39] 



LINES IN LONELINESS 

Ne'er returning — summers spent — 

Glad songs of only yesterday, 
How listlessly your blossoms fade 

As dying echoes, far away ! 
What blissful spells those fairy wings 

Of cloudfleece wafted over me ! — 
Oh God, how many million stars 

Have sunk, unnoticed, in the sea! 

But when they're gone, how blank the stare 

When realized darkness drops her veil! — 
I curse the calm, but rarely think 

To thank the breeze that fills my sail. 
Oh beauties braided in each dream, 

Let me embrace thee ere we part 
Lest tears that seek each sinking star 

Shall drown their image in my heart. 



[40] 



PILOT OF THE NIGHT WATCH 

In silence sleeps the crystal sphere: 

The noiseless echo of my star 
Where moves my bark with prow austere 

To see, O God, the things that are. 

The golden dipper of the skies 
Dips down into a sea of sorrow 

And bears the tears that blind my eyes 
To the dim bourne of tomorrow. 

And lo, I see! though dark the night. 

I hear! thought mute each sheet and spar. 
I grasp the helm. I see the light ! 

That shines upon the things that are. 



[41] 



THE BLIND BEGGAR 

"That I have never seen that called the light ; 

That I can only feel the chill of night 

But sense no darkness ; wherefore pity me ? 

Whence comes this fetish — this verb men use: 'to see'?" 

Two kindly eyes looked down with pitying stare ; 

Two eyes from one — a stranger — by him there. 

Quoth he, "What God forbids no code can spell — 

I only pity thee, but cannot tell. 

What joy to see the drunken flakes of snow 

Fall from darkness to the light below. 

Through semilucent mist and sleeky gleam 

Dim shadows weave their ways as in a dream ; 

Kaleidoscopic lights along the street 

Like pulsing phantom passions ; glossy sleet 

In multicolored torrents bear the glow 

With blush of coral to the trampled snow. 

All this my eyes have given me to see, 

But thou art blind, wherefore I pity thee, — 

Wert thou not blind thou also couldst behold." 

The beggar but replied, "The night is cold." 

"Then come with me, and — may the good be blessed — 

Faith, I shall give thee clothing, food and rest." 

On shuffled groups of women in a throng 

Of cackling men that, laughing, tracked along ; 

Full blown maw — rapacious, wanton, lewd, — 

On oozed the maudlin mass, God's bloated brood. 

The stranger saw and shuddered — ah, full well 

He knew his feet had made their tracks in hell, 

But now his chance had come before too late ; 

A kindly deed his sins to expiate! 

Down fell the snow — on trooped the mawkish men, 

The blinded beggar rose — and then — and then — 

"Behold! — I see the Light! — the Light!" he cried; 

There, in the stranger's arms, the beggar died. 

The street was hushed — the great crowd stood at bay — 

Two policemen came and hurried him away. 

{Over) 



[42] 



Home went the stranger. Meditations deep 

Grew vague and tangled in a web of sleep, 

But lo! the sound of footsteps on the floor 

Brought him from his slumbers to the door. 

There stood the beggar — surd felicity 

Played upon his lips. Lo, he could see ! 

"Whence comest thou?" amazed the stranger said. 

"From far beyond the grave — from realms of dead." 

"Pray where is this? Speak, brother, speak again! 

Thou hast been there? Describe it to me then!" 

The phantom eyes grew bright. "Friend, search and find, 

But now I pity thee, for thou art blind. 

What God forbids no mortal code can spell ; 

I only pity thee, but cannot tell." 



[43] 



Oothinq ma^ be ivhat it seems. 

Amtml Chank God above. 
Ghcrc never ivas a love of dreams 

find yet there arc dreams of love. 




TANKA TO 



I tossed a stone, my love, 
Into the mirror sea. 

Each soft silver ripple shone 
My soul's spent threnody 
Seeking, my love, for thee. 



[44] 



YOU 

Your hands have painted the sunset screen ; 

The ocean finds its blue 
From skies whose star-bright eyes reflect 

The eyes they gave to you. 

Golden ripples hear your song 

As day gives his heart to the sea ; 
When the sea gives her heart to the day, the dawn 

Shall follow your soul to me. 

The crescent moon descends to hear 

Your echoed siren-call — 
Nay, 'tis not all I find in you, 

But you I find in all. 



[45] 



WOODLAND STARS 

Strawberry blossoms, and columbine — 

Stars of a lonely wood — 
Blossom as hope for the fallen pine 
That reached for the sun, the moon, and the stars, 

When King of his forest he stood. 

Sweet maiden of love in life's lonely wood, 

The shadow of God is thine. 
Shine on as bright hope for a Love that stood 
As the pine of the forest that fell, but found 

The echo of stars divine. 



[46] 



A PROMISE 

I offered thee a heart, my love, 

But thou didst choose a stone: 
A promise, and its heart was cold — 

As cold as was thine own. 
But it shall hold though lightning sabers 

Cleave the skies apart ; 
But when the wild wind's passions wake ; 
When white-crest billows rise and shake, 
Behold ! they fall ! they beat ! — and break !- 

Remember, then, my heart. 



47 



SUN-FLOWER 

I slept thru golden dreams on quilts of green 

That spread in ample fold 

A vision green and gold, 
And crowned a golden plant my flower queen. 

I woke. Her eyes revealed no faded spray. 

But lo, the mystic flower 

Had closed within the hour 
And closing bore my happy dream away. 

A day — no more — God ! how I feared to rise ! — 

To wake — to find the light 

Had turned my day to night! 
Oh sun-god, thou hadst closed within her eyes! 



[48 



THE LOST SONG 

The words were graven on my heart- 

The words I wrote for you. 
They wove the verses of a song 

And sang the music too. 
The letters — written one by one 

With pain that numbed my heart ; 
Each verse was guided on by love 

And all it could impart. 
The music, sweet as Hope's lost star, 

Pulsed in my heart to free 
Perfection of some distant dream 

Of your soul's harmony. 
Yet I could never speak the words 

My broken heart could say, 
For you have found its hiding place 

And stolen it away. 



49 | 



FORGET-ME-NOT 

As many miles as minutes worn 

By fallen sands of years 
Precludes a shady plot of turf 

From this — a sea of tears. 
As many tears as longing thoughts; 

And many thoughts — forgot, 
Save one small flower dreams recall 

That said "Forget-me-not." 

She turned her face toward the sun, 

But ere I passed her by, 
I saw her petals, blue as all 

The flowers of the sky. 
Though hours bear me leagues away, 

Dreams light the woodland plot, 
And one small star, still shining there, 

Calls back, "Forget-me-not." 



[50] 



THE PATHFINDER 

"I go no farther." Thus spake Reason coldly. 
Vain argument my sober guide refuted — 
"No farther!" With this repetition boldly 
He departed, leaving, all uprooted, 
Blossomed hope there in my grasp to fade — 
The flower I had nursed — the flower God had made. 

I — alone. The palsied moon, half hidden, 
Trembled faintly on the ivied thicket ; 
Troubled silence gnawed the dull unbidden 
Rattle of the locust and the cricket. 
A mazed delirium, a world awry — 
A foundered dream, a dying hope, a curse, and I. 

Chaotic nothingness — cold — depressing, 
Tangled roots and cactus underbrushes. 
Desperate wonderment and mottled guessing 
Overwhelmed me like the flood that rushes 
Past its bounds to some well-ordered town, 
To flood the busy streets and wash the houses down. 

On I stumbled — frenzied — weary — panting, 
Till lo, there came a wine to quench my thirsting; 
There came a distant voice — soft — enchanting — 
Artesian fountains on a desert bursting — 
"Follow me," it said. "From realms above 
I come. I am the pathfinder of Hope — 

/ am Love." 



[51] 



<£Jho boasts of true sincerity 

Can have no alibi; 
Prepared to live, he cannot be 

Still unprepared to die. 



i 




MOTHERS 

Thy heart — a spring, thy love — a flowing river, 
Singing as it goes of no returning. 

Thou hast to give, and thou shalt know thy giving 
In the sunset where all Love is burning. 



L 52 



REDEMPTION 

He sought it in the flowers when a child ; 

He sought through countless pages as he grew; 

He said he found it when a maiden smiled, 

But it was not there — 

Nor anywhere, 
He knew. 

And then he gave it up and went about 
Chasing Jack-o'-lanterns here and there. 
He lost himself in labyrinths without 

A thought of debt, 

A slight regret, 
Or prayer. 

But lo, there came a far off thunder sound! 
The sea grew red and bloody to the brim, 
Despair, destruction, death was all he found, 

But it had brought 

That which he sought 
To him. 



[53] 



TO WALT WHITMAN 

You break from the wake of a roaring dream, 

And pound on a far-flung shoal; 
Like the hail in a gale or a lightning beam, 

You strike at the worth of soul. 
You fly from the sky as a meteor stone, 

To plunge thru the sandy crust ; 
You pound and pound on blood and bone, 

Till you turn to a sledge and rust. 
But the clamoring, hammering, drum-tap sound 

That rolls from your pile-drive pen, 
Roars from the shores of the sea to resound 

In the hearts of a million men. 
I know your blow when the anvil rings, 

I see your heart-forged coals, 
While gold sparks fly from earth to sky 

And burn thru our metal souls. 
With bonds of steel you bind us all 

To a soil whose bend is one, 
And we all must kneel when the trumpets call, 

Even as you have done. 



[54] 



CARRY ON! 

Touch it not ! — 'tis the flower of beauty ! — 
In thy grasp shall it wither away, 

Like stars of the night 

In the realm of our sight 

Must vanish with light 
Of the day. 

Drink it not! — 'tis the nectar of gladness! 
At thy lips shall it change unto gall, 

Like love unto lust, 

Like steel unto rust, 

Like rain to the dust 
Shall it fall. 

Take it up! — 'tis the sabre of living! — 

Fight! ere its lustre is gone, 
For man to the core 
Of his conscience is war! — 
As thy fathers before, 
Carry on ! 



[55] 



A SOLDIER'S WILL TO ONE UNBORN 

Little pilgrim of a World's debut, 

Soul elect, heir to a brighter age, 
This generation sows a seed for you 

We water with our blood ! Your heritage 
We now prepare: a ponderous world estate! 

We draw the will, and seal it with our plight! 
For you, nor yours, we shall not arbitrate 

Till peace is born as day is born from night; 
As you shall spring from love, the world shall spring 

From all that love creates in life and power. 
This we leave, may God your only King, 

Protect the seed that you may pick the flower. 



[56] 



DRY DOCKED 

She has splashed the hearts of a happy crew 

In the salt of a spicy main, 
And tumbled them out to a great unknown 

And carried them home again. 
Hers — the freedom of all the seas ; 

Their joy was to feel her roll 
And plunge and leap from the foaming waves 

Like a song as it springs from the soul. 

But she was the Ship of Peace, and now 

Her crew are the men of war, 
Scattered all over the earth, and great 

Is the cause they are fighting for. 
For now she lies helpless: shackled and chained 

To the dock, till her sailor men 
Will have swept the world of its monsters. — God! 

When will she sail again? 



[57] 



THE LEGACY OF DEATH 

Ye, that put aside frivolity 
For this grim struggle with a frenzied foe; 
if e, led by the shades of chivalry, 
■Vho more for love than life, would strike the blow 
I )f death ; march on! and, with thy radiant spirits, 
I ,ead the way and every soul inspire 
I Vith sinewed love to battle down the hate 
jAnd carry on through shrapnel storm and fire 
'The torch our Master gave. Then from the graves 
(Of the fallen, lo! the peace that reigns the while 
[Above each tired heap that gave a life — 
Nay, more! 
A love — 

A dying smile. 



[58] 




Lo! the peace that reigns the while 
Above each tired heap that gave a life, — 
Nay, more ! 
A love — 

A dying smile. 



$ 



% 



Certain of these verses have already 
appeared in the Los Angeles Graphic, 
Occident, Air Currents, and other local 
publications, and also in one of Henry T. 
Schnittkind's Anthology of College Verse. 



